


And Wonderful Is True

by jannika



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-15
Updated: 2013-03-15
Packaged: 2017-12-05 10:24:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/721990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jannika/pseuds/jannika
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU in which Louis owns a bar he should probably close on Wednesdays, Niall  turns down job offers, Zayn doesn’t make art anymore, Liam’s scones come premade and frozen, Harry cooks in other people’s kitchens, and two of them are lying. Or the one where Liam, Zayn and Louis are too tangled in each other to move anymore until Harry shows up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Wonderful Is True

**Author's Note:**

> I have been computerless for months, and without a way to write them I came up with six different fic ideas and one smaller thing, all plotted in my head. This none of those things. This is something ridiculous that spun out of nowhere. I have missed writing them, I have missed this fandom. So, jumping back in, have 10,000 words I was planning on at all.

In the beginning, it was supposed to be one of those temporary things. Zayn had finished uni and Louis'd had this great flat and could get him a job for the summer and Zayn had been very tired and very willing to put off interviews for actual jobs for a few months. That was two years ago. Two years of filling beer cups and DJing once a month or so when they attempt to have actual entertainment and settling into their crap little street at their crap little dive bar and not painting or applying for jobs or trying. Louis likes to try and spin it all a little, likes to say that basically they're very young business owners and should be proud. Which might be helpful had they actually done anything to accomplish it, but like everything else it had just sort of happened.

The manager had stopped showing up one day, and after a couple of nights Louis had called the old man who technically owned the place- and half the businesses on the street, he's more landlord than owner- but they didn't know who else to call. He'd mostly grunted and told them to keep paying rent and not burn the place down. So now it's theirs, sort of. More Louis', really.

It's okay, really. It's like, sometimes Louis does this variety set and sometimes they sing and sometimes Zayn DJs and sometimes people come, and they serve drinks and they make enough to keep the flat and buy food and so. It could be a lot worse, honestly. Every day is exactly the same, but if he really wanted change he's sure he'd feel a lot more motivated to do something about it.

At least there is Liam. For a few hours a day, sometimes more, there is Liam and his coffee shop and those runs he takes past Zayn's window. Shirtless, fairly often. Zayn really, really can't complain about that. It works out well, because Liam opens ungodly early in the morning, so early that he's there and setting up by the time Louis and Zayn finish closing for the night. He's not officially open, but they always pour in a little after 4 and he brings them tea and coffee and bagels and muffins, for free, until his actual morning rush starts. It's a good arrangement, even if they're dead tired and Liam is hardly awake.

"Did you get one of these?" Liam asks one morning. It's a Thursday, which is always extra rough because Wednesdays are always so dead, not enough going on to keep Zayn amused, so he's always grouchy on Thursdays. Well, okay. Extra grouchy.

"One of what?" Louis asks, third free tea in hand, reaching for the letter in Liam's hand.

"It was in my post, I don't see why it wouldn't have been in yours too," Liam says.

"We may not have checked. Did we check?" Louis asks, kicking Zayn's foot under the table.

"Probably not," Zayn shrugs, "we normally don't."

"You could start getting it for us!" Louis enthuses. Liam sighs.

"I do already do all your numbers," he says.

"Exactly," Louis says, "now, what am I looking at here?"

"A notice about our leases," Liam says. Zayn closes his eyes and pulls his drink closer, in no mood to talk money, or to do much of anything. (Sometimes, on Thursdays, when he's grouchy and groggy and foggy, if he leans back and closes his eyes and holds his tea he can allow himself to pretend for a minute. He can pretend this booth is a couch in a flat that's not his, and Liam has made him tea but from a kitchen in the flat that's not his, and that Liam has made it just for him because they're waking up from the bed they share in a life that's not his. It's a good 45 seconds or so, really.)

He’s not sure if he’s missed anything when he zones back in, but Louis’ “oh, so he’s dead” seems a little out of place.

“Apparently,” Liam says.

“He was like, 90,” Louis says, “and it says we just keep sending the rent to the same place. Or in my case, have you keep sending it to the same place, so.” Louis says. Zayn blinks and tries to follow that through the fog in his head.

“Our landlord died?” Zayn asks.

“Glad you could join us this morning, Zayn,” Louis says, kicking his foot again. Zayn glares at him.

“Do we have to like, do anything?” Zayn asks.

“I don’t think so? The letter seems to just be letting us know, I guess. Although, do you like, send flowers at a time like this?” Liam says, smiling a little and pushing a tray of pastries toward Zayn.

“I’m pretty sure I put you in charge of that sort of thing,” Louis says. Liam rolls his eyes.

“Flower sending?”

“No, the knowing if we ought to part,” Louis says.

“We could look it up,” Zayn suggests, pulling out his phone. Liam beams at him again.

“How are we possibly going to look up something like this?” Louis asks, “the internet doesn’t know fucking everything, you know.”

“It does, actually,” Zayn says, turning his phone around so Louis can see the page he’s pulled up on etiquette in funeral situations.

“What does?” Niall’s voice says, suddenly standing over their table.

“Niall! Does your early morning presence mean you finally actually work here?” Louis asks.

“Not a chance,” Niall says, grinning. Liam groans. He’s been trying to get Niall to take a job at his shop for over a year now, since just after Niall plotted himself and his guitar on a corner and started playing every afternoon, case open for donations. He’s in the shop all the time though, making drinks and helping Liam with the rushes and sometimes playing in the corner like this is one of those places with ambiance or something. Liam sets employment paperwork in front of him at least once a week, and every time Niall just laughs and says he’s fine.

“You serve customers and Liam pays you. I think that qualifies as working here,” Louis says.

“I keep telling him I don’t need the money,” Niall says, sitting down with them and helping himself to the pastries.

“And yet you show up and insist on helping anyway,” Liam says.

“You don’t like help?” Niall says.

“I’d love the help. Full time. On paper,” Liam throws back.

“Nah, it’s better this way,” Niall says, “besides, maybe I just like you shoving cash into my pants, Li.”

“Pockets,” Liam clarifies, flushing a little, “your pants pockets, because you would not open your hand, one time.”

“That’s beautiful, though, I love when I can see my influence on people. Makes me feel like I’m making a difference. It’s touching,” Louis says, slinging an arm around Niall.

“You’re a giver,” Zayn says dryly.

“I really am,” Louis says.

“I’m inspired every day,” Liam says, still looking a little red.

“As you should be,” Louis says, taking a swallow of tea and beaming at them. Niall takes that moment to catch Zayn’s eye over the table, a quick-raised eyebrow like he wants Zayn to know he was kidding, like he wants to make sure it was okay. Which, for fuck’s sake, he isn’t made of glass, okay? The Liam thing is not the huge deal that Louis- and now apparently Niall- thinks it is. It’s really, really not. He kicks Louis under the table, hard, and makes a mental note to be angry with Louis later for the other things he’s been influencing Niall about. He rolls his eyes back at Niall, because. Seriously.

The door chimes then, the sound of an actual paying customer and Liam springs to alert, calling out his overly-perky-but-stupidly-endearing morning hello. Zayn shakes his head, and then he and Louis stand up and throw out their cups and plates and head toward the back, waving at Liam, just like every other morning.

“You coming?” Zayn calls back to Niall.

“Thought I’d help this morning, you know, Thursdays and all,” Niall says. From somewhere behind his counter, Liam groans. Niall grins broader and heads over, chatting with customers on the way.

“Apparently we should check the post more often, news of dead people in it,” Louis says at the door.

“You told Liam to do it for us,” Zayn says.

“Right, but then I thought I’d send you to Liam to get it,” Louis says.

“Why?” Zayn asks, even though he knows the answer, even though it has been a long night and he just wants to sleep and not talk about Liam or dead landlords or money in Niall’s pants anymore.

“One stone. Multiple birds,” Louis says. Zayn rolls his eyes.

“I don’t think I’m talking to you until after I sleep,” he says.

“You’re not going to to talk to me in the two more minutes it will take to get to our flat or the four it will take you to fall asleep? How will I ever make it?” Louis says.

Zayn doesn’t answer.

**

The problem is that they’re actually stuck, as far as Zayn sees it. Louis is always going to be overly invested in the Liam thing, because he always sees it as his fault. No matter how many times Zayn has said, in one of their weekly or so circular conversations about what a massive idiot Zayn is apparently being, that it’s not Louis fault at all. The thing, though, is that when Liam had first opened on their street and they’d first all started becoming close and there were those first nights and first conversations and first drinks together and first nights in Louis and Zayn’s flat, Liam laughing with them, they’d ended up with Liam sleeping with Louis.

Which like. Is fine. It’s honestly fine. It was fine then and it’s fine now, but Louis has decided it makes him responsible for Zayn’s love life. It had just been that Liam had been so _Liam_ and Zayn had been so fucking endeared right from the start, and all three of them had hit it off and Zayn was really sort of content to take things slow and see what happened and then Liam had walked out of Louis’ room one morning. There had been five mornings in all, not that Zayn counted them and tried to get lost in his own covers or anything while it was happening, because it was. Whatever. But then Louis had noticed and sort of frozen in his tracks in the middle of a story about Liam’s chest or something, in the middle of their kitchen and stared and Zayn for a long minute and said,

“Fuck, Zayn. I didn’t know.”

“What?” Zayn had said.

“You like him. Fuck,” Louis had said. Zayn will never be exactly sure what he did to make Louis notice all at once like that, what gave him away, what made Louis’ eyes go all contrite like they had.

“Whatever,” Zayn had said.

“You didn’t tell me, I didn’t. I’m sorry,” Louis had said.

“It’s not a thing, Lou. It’s fine,” Zayn tried, staring at his cereal. Louis had sighed at him.

“Yeah it is. I wish you wouldn’t do that.”

“Do what?” Zayn asked.

“That. Like, when I’m being shit you should tell me I’m being shit, okay? I wish you’d just say something,” Louis had said. Zayn had shrugged,

“You’re not,” Zayn had said. Louis had sighed again, and then he’d said he’d stop and Zayn had said that he didn’t have to, that he shouldn’t, and Louis had glared at him and said that yes, he did, because he just meant things casually anyway and Zayn never liked anyone and Louis was not going to contribute to his reasons to be bitter or whatever and it had all. It had ended in Liam not coming out of Louis’ room anymore, and selfishly Zayn was very, very glad about it. He’s never asked what Louis said, or how that went. He doesn’t really want to know.

So Louis is part of it, it’s all sort of tangled and Zayn doesn’t know quite how to sort it, can’t figure it out. Zayn’s got all these other reasons he always tells Louis, all these things about their sleep schedules being opposite, which they are and he’s pretty sure that’s valid even if Louis always tells him it’s the most pathetic thing he’s ever heard. He’s got reasons about how if it was going to happen it would have on one of so many nights when it was the three of them and Louis left in the most obvious way possible and then they just sat and finished their film, fingers touching a little, nothing more. Which, Louis contends over and over is because Zayn didn’t make anything happen, and that’s probably fair. More than fair. He knows.

(There is, in between visions of flats that aren’t his, somewhere in thoughts of two of his best friends licking each other he tries not see, there is this floating imagined conversation, a moment, when he leans into Liam, when he’s brave and vulnerable and open, and he gets back his name laced with pity and sad eyes and Liam being so sorry, mostly sorry for him, concerned and wonderful but not leaning back, not kissing back, not wanting to, and like, Zayn just. Can’t.)

Still, no matter how many circles they talk in and how many times Zayn blames sleep schedules and the fact that Liam runs and anything else he can think of and no matter how many times Louis tells him it’s all absolute crap, Louis never, ever says the things he could, that Zayn probably deserves. He’s never mentioned that he stopped, gave things up, for Zayn, never mentioned that Zayn is wasting it. Zayn thinks it says more about their friendship than almost anything else.

***

They’re closed on Mondays and Tuesdays, so on Wednesdays they go to Liam’s before they open, too, preparing for another dragging night. Six days after the letter about their landlord, Zayn is two cups in when Louis strolls in, Starbucks cup in hand, and Zayn closes his eyes and smirks a little, preparing for it.

“Really?” Liam says, voice a little high already. Louis and Liam have this conversation about as often as Liam asks Niall to work for him, because Louis insists on purchasing Starbucks, mostly because it makes Liam’s voice go all high.

“Afternoon, Liam,” Louis says brightly.

“Must you?” Liam asks as Louis slides in next to Zayn.

“Yes,” Louis says.

“But. I make things. Anything. For free, whenever you want!” Liam says.

“Yes, but this is what I want to spend my money on,” Louis says, smirking.

“Why?” Liam asks.

“To annoy you,” Zayn cuts in.

“It is a simple pleasure I refuse to deny myself of, really,” Louis says, swinging an arm around Zayn as he does.

“I’m not asking you to deny yourself! I’m asking you to let me make it! For free! You’re giving me a complex here, Lou,” Liam says.

“You are not Starbucks,” Louis says.

“Exactly!” Liam says.

“You’re better and cheaper!” Niall calls from the table he’s wiping. At the shop he doesn’t work at.

“Yes! But how will people ever know that with Louis giving free advertising for the competition!” Liam says. Zayn bites back a giggle. Liam has this whole theory about how people will see Louis’ cups and realise there is a Starbucks a few blocks away and then never give Liam’s place a chance and then he’ll be out of business all because Louis apparently hates his coffee. Louis finds that all more reason to go. Zayn’s pretty sure he doesn’t actually go that often, honestly. He thinks he might just save the cups and carry them, just to bug Liam. It always works.

“You don’t offer what they do,” Louis says.

“Which is?” Liam says, narrowing his eyes.

“Their staff is just so nice to look at, always filled with new boys for me to charm. I like that with my afternoon coffee. You don’t have that. Honestly, I bring you Zayn. What do you do for me, Liam?” Louis says. Zayn elbows him and Louis pulls him closer and blinks at Liam innocently. It’s probably a really good thing Liam’s last paying customers have just left.

“I work here!” Liam tries, a flush now matching the pitch of his voice.

“Yes, and we’re very much past that,” Louis says, grinning broadly, “and Niall doesn’t count because he doesn’t actually work here. Or flirt back and mean it. So again. What do you do for me, Liam?”

“Are you saying that if I hire some pretty boy for you to flirt with you’ll stop overpaying for your Starbucks?” Liam asks.

“You can’t even get Niall to work here,” Louis says.

“But if I did!” Liam says.

“Sure,” Louis says, reaching to ruffle Liam’s hair. Zayn rolls his eyes and Niall walks over- and that’s when the door chimes and a very attractive male face, big eyed and surrounded by curls, walks in.  
“You! Hi! Would you like to work here?” Liam asks, bright and professional even as he smirks at Louis. Zayn grins and tries to make his heart not do stupid Liam-tempo things as Niall shakes with silent laughter and Louis’ raises an impressed eyebrow.

“Um. I was just here to offer to like, warn you? And offer to help? But I could pick up ten hours a week or so, probably, if you, yeah,” the boy at the door says, slowly.

“Warn us?” Liam says, as Louis says,

“You take that job offer as a very high compliment.”

“I’m, hi? I’m Harry,” he, Harry, says, walking up to them and extending a hand to Liam, who shakes it.

“Liam,” Liam says, “sorry to have pounced on you like that.”

“I’m Louis and he’s not sorry at all,” Louis says, moving his arm from around Zayn’s shoulder so he can reach his hand out and pull Harry’s hand away from Liam.

“Louis with the bar?” Harry asks. They all blink at him.

“Sorry, who are you?” Zayn asks.

“Warn?” Niall says.

“Right. I guess you didn’t hear, then,” Harry says.

“Hear what?” Louis asks.

“I’m um, I’m doing this project for a course and we, like, I was researching property development on this block because i’m very interested in how all of that works and I’m writing this paper and it turns out that ownership here recently switched hands, so I wanted to look into that because that can change the face of things, and did you know you’re probably in trouble?” Harry says.

“Did anyone follow that?” Niall says, “No offense, mate, but I don’t know what you just said. I’m Niall, by the way.”

“I think he’s talking about our dead landlord,” Louis says.

“Why do you know about that?” Zayn asks.

“I looked it up. For a class,” Harry says.

“How old are you? And why is our bar part of your class?” Louis says.

“I’m in a masters program,” Harry says, “and I told you, property development.”

“Why are we in trouble?” Liam asks, biting his lip.

“Oh! Right. I looked up your new owner, the old owner’s great-nephew I guess, and I think he wants to shut you down,” Harry says.

“What? Why?” Liam asks, he looks genuinely distressed now. Zayn reaches for his hand across the table before he can stop himself. Liam squeezes back, looking grateful.

“To bring in places that make more money, that attract clients with more money, to change the feel of the street,” Harry says.

“It’s our street,” Louis says.

“Not technically,” Liam says, sadly.

“So some guy doesn’t think we’re fucking, what, classy enough or something and we have to go? We have leases!” Louis says.

“Well, how these things generally work is that he’ll just raise your rent to something you can’t possibly pay and then you’ll have to leave,” Harry says, “there are other ways, but I think that’s normally fastest.”

“I still don’t understand who you are or why you know this,” Zayn says, frowning. This is. Something isn’t right here. He can’t figure it out, but something beyond how worried Liam looks and how angry Louis looks just isn’t sitting right with him.

“It’s pretty easy to research,” Harry shrugs, “You could look it up yourselves if you don’t believe me.”

“We believe you,” Louis says, throwing Zayn a look Zayn is pretty sure he doesn’t deserve.

“I just think you should do something while you still can,” Harry says.

“Like what?” Liam says.

“I thought you just said we were fucked,” Niall says.

“You could protest, organize, make it clear you don’t want to leave, sometimes that helps,” Harry says.

“That’s not very encouraging,” Liam says.

“I could help! I’ve studied these things,” Harry says.

“That would be fantastic,” Louis says, beaming at Harry like any of this makes sense at all.

“Help with what?” Zayn asks, “Like, okay someone wants us out and will raise our rent to do it. Probably. But we don’t know that. We can’t just make protest plans or whatever not knowing things because someone we don’t even know told us to. Why do you want to help us, anyway?” Zayn asks. He’s not trying to be difficult, honestly he’s not, this is just all happening really fast and he’s not sure it should.

“Yeah, maybe,” Liam starts, but Louis cuts him off.

“So we’ll look it up. You’re the one who is always looking things up. But why would Harry come here and lie to us? This is happening and we can’t just let it. We can’t just lose everything. So we should let Harry show us how to fight it. We can’t just get kicked out, Zayn,” Louis says. Zayn sighs.

“I just thought you should be warned,” Harry says, shrugging in Zayn’s direction. Zayn studies him for a minute and okay. He doesn’t- he doesn’t look like some kid just out to fuck with them, he looks startlingly sincere actually, and he’s also throwing Louis these looks like maybe Louis is the best thing he’s seen in a long time, and Zayn doesn’t want to lose the bar, and Liam deserves to stay open, and it would be nice if Louis was happy, one of them should be, and so maybe he can have their regulars sign a petition or something. It might make Liam feel better too, and that’s always a plus. Liam is still squeezing his hand and not looking at anyone but him and Zayn-

“Fine,” he says. Liam beams at him.

“Excellent,” Niall says, grinning, “how do we do this?”

“You’re awfully invested for someone who doesn’t work here,” Louis says.

“I’m emotionally invested, that’s deeper than financially,” Niall says. Liam sighs, then turns his head to look at Harry, fingers still laced with Zayn’s.

“Oh. Did you really want to work here?” he asks.

Louis throws his very empty Starbucks cup at Liam’s head.

***

Zayn has poured maybe two dozen drinks tonight, fucking Wednesdays, and now it’s past one and the few people still there don’t want much help, so that’s sort of just. That.

“You ever think we shouldn’t be open on Wednesdays?” Zayn calls to Louis, the way he does almost every Wednesday.

“We do probably waste money being open. You should get Liam to figure that out for us,” Louis says, walking over.

“You ever think we should do our own finances?” Zayn says.

“We tried that. I didn’t like it,” Louis says, wrinkling his nose.

“We didn’t really try very hard,” Zayn says.

“Do we ever?” Louis asks.

“Not really,” Zayn says, and that’s. Probably, maybe, not a thing they should joke about as often as they do, because it’s absurdly true.

“If we weren’t open on Wednesdays, we could look into serving proper food, and maybe like, entertainment,” Louis says, again. Like every week.

“Yeah,” Zayn says.

“Then, I suppose it doesn’t matter if we’re about to be shut down,” Louis says.

“You really believe that?” Zayn asks.

“Why would he make it up?” Louis asks. Zayn shrugs.

“You think, if it is true, you think we can beat it?” Zayn asks.

“We could put up a hell of a fight,” Louis says. Zayn raises an eyebrow.

“Isn’t that trying?” Zayn asks.

“Pretty sure. It might start a trend. Maybe we’ll win and stop being open on Wednesdays and get a bar menu and music, and you can tell Liam how you feel, and paint,” Louis says.

“I paint,” Zayn says, mostly to avoid everything else Louis had said, “draw.”

“Not really, you don’t,” Louis says, “not anymore.”

“I do,” Zayn says.

“You know Liam would put them up and rave to everyone who came in about how brilliant you are and then ask you to marry him, right?” Louis says.

“He wouldn’t,” Zayn says.

“Which part?” Louis asks, stacking some glasses as he talks, pretending to work like they always do at this time of night.

“The. I don’t. I drew yesterday!” Zayn says. And that’s not entirely true and Louis knows it because Louis always knows, but he’d pull a sketch book out from under his bed, which sort of counts.

“While you were staring at Liam running past the window? Was his shirt off?” Louis asks.

“No,” Zayn says, crossing his arms. Louis grins.

“I’m just saying, we could try, you know, trying, both of us,” Louis says.

“In hopes we don’t get kicked out?” Zayn asks.

“In hopes for a lot of things,” Louis says back. The customers get up and and Zayn walks down the bar to collect their cups and napkins. Louis looks thoughtful when he gets back.

“Lou?” Zayn asks.

“I liked him,” Louis says.

“Harry? I could tell,” Zayn says.

“I want him to stay,” Louis says.

“Well apparently he works for Liam now,” Zayn says.

“All the more reason to try, then, right? Can’t have him lose his brand new job,” Louis says, still looking thoughtful, like- it’s that look.

“Sure,” Zayn says, shaking his head. Louis does this sometimes, he meets people and is planning this future for them in his mind about a minute later.

“You don’t like him, do you?” Louis asks, frowning.

“We just met him,” Zayn says. It’s not that. He hadn’t disliked Harry, he just needs a while with people sometimes. He’s not always good with new people, more so new people who throw themselves in and start talking about helping and using words like _we_ about people they’ve just met.

“Be nice, would you?” Louis asks, his eyes still in an imagined future.

“I am nice,” Zayn says. Louis raises an eyebrow.

“He’s lovely, Zayn,” Louis says.

“Fine,” Zayn says, “You’ve got that look.”

“I like getting that look,” Louis says back.

“I know. Just, careful, yeah?” Zayn says, because he worries. Because every time it doesn’t work out for Louis he’s pretty sure it’s his fault. Because of the Liam thing. Because he wants Louis to be happy. Because everything is tangled. Because trying is fucking terrifying.

“You’re careful enough for both of us,” Louis says, turning his attention to locking their money up for the night.

“Lou,” Zayn says, heading for the sink.

“Yeah. I know,” Louis says, “I will.”

***  
On Saturday evening Zayn’s in the backroom pulling out supplies for the night when there’s a knock at the door.

“Yeah?” Zayn calls.

“It’s me,” Liam’s voice says. Zayn drops the box he’s holding and opens the door for Liam.

“You don’t have to knock on stockroom doors, you know,” Zayn says.

“It seemed polite,” Liam says, smiling. Zayn grins back.

“Did you need something, then?” Zayn asks, “aren’t you still open?”

“Harry and Niall are there,” Liam says.

“Niall doesn’t work for you,” Zayn says.

“And yet he’s helping me train Harry,” Liam says.

“He’s the best employee you don’t have,” Zayn says.

“He really is. Um, I wanted to talk to you before you got opened and got busy, actually?” Liam says.

“Okay,” Zayn says, and his heart is absolutely not doing ridiculous things at that, because Liam probably means about their plans to not get shut down or like, if they’re all doing brunch tomorrow and not that he’d like to move into Zayn’s bed forever.

“Louis said,” Liam starts then stops, “wait. Nothing good ever happens when I start sentences like that. Um. I don’t have anything really, on the walls, and it might be nice if I did, provided I still have a shop soon, anyway, because people like art with their scones and coffee, I think.”

“Art is always good,” Zayn says, stalling because he knows exactly where this is going. He should have seen this one coming, actually.

“Right. So, I thought I’d ask you,” Liam says, “to make things. For my walls?”

“Because Louis told you to?” Zayn asks.

“No! I mean, he suggested it, but I, wanted that anyway,” Liam says. Zayn bites his lip and studies the way Liam is rocking back and forth on his feet.

“You never mentioned,” Zayn says, softly.

“I thought, until Louis mentioned, I just assumed you wouldn’t want that, like that your stuff was, too good for that, I guess,” Liam says.

“You haven’t seen that much,” Zayn says.

“It’s been enough,” Liam says, smiling.

“It’s, I haven’t really, lately,” Zayn confesses, sitting down on a crate and shrugging. Liam sits next to him and raises his eyebrows.

“No?” He says.

“It’s been a while,” Zayn says.

“Okay,” Liam says.

“Okay?” Zayn asks, raising an eyebrow, and swallowing hard all at once. This is one of those things Liam does, he doesn’t put Zayn on the spot, he doesn’t ask too many questions, and it makes Zayn want to talk like he normally doesn’t.

“Everyone needs breaks sometimes,” Liam says, all understanding and without a drop of pressure.

“I think I just, like growing up, and in uni and all of that, it was like, escaping. It was time for me, quiet time out, but I don’t really, you can’t escape from escaping, right? I can’t use it to avoid doing other things if it is a thing I’m avoiding. Does that make any sense?” Zayn asks.

“It makes perfect sense,” Liam says.

“Sometimes I think all I ever do is have the same conversations over and over, it’s hardly even noise anymore,” Zayn says.

“This one is new,” Liam says, smiling. Zayn grins back, not even trying to ignore his heartbeat now.

“Thanks for that,” Zayn says.

“I would, you know I would, like, if you wanted to be loud, talk about nothing but new things, if you wanted to try new things, if you wanted to, I mean, I’d help,” Liam says.

“Thanks for that too, then,” Zayn says. Everything he wants is telling him this is a thing and a moment because people don’t just say shit like that to their friends, but the logical- or maybe just the scared- parts of him are telling him that Liam is the nicest person in the whole fucking world and he probably says things like that to strangers queued with him in shops.

“Yeah,” Liam says, “I should go check on them, but if you do start again, and we all manage to keep open, I’d love to put it up.”

“I’ll let you know,” Zayn says, then he adds, “and we will, I hope.”

“Me too,” Liam says.

“You did finally manage to hire someone. It would be a shame to waste that,” Zayn says. Liam smiles.

“That’s not a new conversation,” Liam says, smiling.

“The Harry part is new,” Zayn says.

“Maybe we all need that,” Liam says.

“I guess we’ll find out,” Zayn says, shrugging.

“Yeah,” Liam says, actually headed for the door now, “Let me know, about everything, okay?”

“I’ll try,” Zayn says. Maybe if he keeps saying it he won’t be so scared of it.

***

Harry is sitting in his living room when Zayn gets out of the shower. Not Harry and Louis, just Harry, sitting on the couch flipping channels, under a blanket, like they’ve known him for more than a week.

“I didn’t know we had company,” Zayn says.

“Hi! I thought I heard you getting up,” Harry says.

“Hi,” Zayn says, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Louis was going to wake you up when he got back, but you’re already up,” Harry says, scooting over on the couch like he wants Zayn to sit.

“Right,” Zayn says, “Gets back from where?”

“Out, grabbing things for when everyone is here,” Harry says.

“Everyone?” Zayn repeats.

“Liam and Niall. We’re having a meeting!” Harry says. Zayn sits but scowls because he’s certain this is probably something he should have been informed of.

“When?”

“Um, when they get here? Soon, actually,” Harry says and Zayn frowns again. He should probably get dressed for that, or at least put a shirt on, and really, Louis should tell him things before people just show up and he’s only been awake for like half an hour and this is not. Zayn is not good when things happen all fast like this, he’s really not.

“So you’re here but Louis’s not?” Zayn asks.

“I’m cooking! It’s in the oven now. We need food to brainstorm how to save your places, and I kept shooing Louis out of the kitchen anyway because he was being very distracting, so then he said he would just run out to the store,” Harry says.

“How long have you been here?” Zayn asks, and he really feels like he should not have to ask this many questions this early in the morning, or in his own flat, or ever, honestly.

“Last night,” Harry says.

“Oh,” Zayn says, closing his eyes, “right.”

“Um,” Harry says, then he’s reaching out and grabbing Zayn’s hand and looking at him all intently and earnestly, “I think you heard things in that that I didn’t say. I also think you don’t like me and I don’t know why.”

“I don’t know you,” Zayn says.

“I’m just trying to help,” Harry says, still holding Zayn’s hand, still all big-eyed.

“I know that,” Zayn says, and he’s trying to figure out a way to say that he doesn’t care why Harry slept here and that he doesn’t mind that Harry’s helping and that maybe he will learn to like Harry and that he hopes Harry is good for Louis, when his door swings open. The door swings open and then Liam and Niall are standing there and Zayn is shirtless and Harry is holding Zayn’s hand and the door key in Liam’s hand falls to the ground and seriously, Zayn’s life is a fucking farce. He drops Harry’s hand and Niall swoops down to pick up the key and Harry says,

“Good! You’re here!” like maybe he’s completely immune to the weirdness happening here.

“It smells good in here,” Niall says, throwing himself down on an arm chair.

“I’m cooking!” Harry says, beaming at everyone.

“I’m going to get dressed,” Zayn says, excusing himself, mostly from the way Liam’s eyes are burning into him. He heads to his room over the sound of Harry and Niall chattering on about whatever it is Harry has made for them to eat. Zayn pulls out a shirt and shakes his head to clear the weirdness of this morning, or attempt to, anyway. A throat-clearing sound makes him open his eyes again.

“Hey,” Liam says from the doorway.

“Hi,” Zayn says, turning to face him, “I didn’t know you were coming. You or Niall or Harry. I woke up and he was he here.”

“Cooking,” Liam says, smiling wryly.

“I guess so,” Zayn says.

“He’s um. Persistent, I’ve noticed,” Liam says, an edge to his words Zayn doesn’t know if he’s imagining.

“He is,” Zayn says. He doesn’t understand how everything can be complicated and yet so boring all once, like it’s the complications keeping them stuck, maybe, tied down by the way they’re tied to each other. Liam had said the other day that maybe Harry being new would help. Maybe he’s just another tie. Maybe they should all get shut down, maybe they should give up and move on and stop being stuck.

“That could be good, for not getting shut down, rents raised, all that, I mean,” Liam says.

“Yeah,” Zayn says, “it will be good for keeping us all right where we are.” Liam sighs and leans against the wall.

“Sorry,” he says.

“For?” Zayn asks.

“Is there, like, you would know if there is, is there a word for this? For when you’re talking about things but really talking about something else? Is that called something?” Liam asks.

“Li,” Zayn says, and he sort of needs to sit down or maybe sleep for a week. He takes a deep breath, but then the door opens again and Harry’s voice says,

“Louis!” from in the living room and Liam sighs again and bites his lip.

“I guess Louis’ back,” Liam says.

“I heard,” Zayn says.

“We should probably go then,” Liam says, but it takes them several minutes to actually move.

***

Harry is sitting on Louis’ lap when they walk back in, a hand on the back of his neck, laughing at something and Louis’ eyes are all crinkly-happy.

“Liam! Zayn!” Louis says when they walk into the room. He’s got several bags by his feet and a giant grin on his face as he looks between Liam and Zayn. “Hope we’re not keeping you from something.”

“What all did you buy?” Zayn says, a pathetic subject change, but Liam picks up the thread anyway.

“Probably overpriced scones from shops that aren’t mine,” Liam says.

“First of all, Harry is in charge of food, second you don’t even make your scones, or any of your baked goods, you have it all ordered in pre-made and frozen. I’ve had several conversations with your delivery driver, so there is really no need to be all offended,” Louis says.

“You’ve had several conversations with my delivery guy?” Liam asks, sitting down on the couch and making room for Zayn.

“I have, because there was a man at your backdoor at three in the morning all the time and Zayn there was all convinced he was your secret lover when we noticed and in order to keep him from pouring another drink I took it upon myself to go talk to him. Found out he was bringing you scones and not sex. Which is much less fun, and let me tell you, Liam, you were missing out on that one, but. Good lad, that one, wants to be a singer, sends me texts about auditions sometimes,” Louis says. Harry pouts a little at that and Louis tugs on his curls, “not very often,” he clarifies.

“You know him better than I do,” Liam says.

“Much better, apparently,” Niall says.

“Anyway,” Louis says, “I made fliers at the printshop, for the windows and to pass out to customers, and shirts.”

“Shirts?” Zayn repeats.

“Causes need shirts with slogans, it shows we’re serious,” Louis says. He reaches into the bags and tosses them all shirts and passes around fliers.

“We have a slogan?” Liam asks.

“We want to keep serving you,” Harry says, looking pleased with himself. Louis puts a hand on his knee and squeezes.

“Keeping our street in local hands,” Niall reads, “show your support, sign the petition.”

“Do we have petitions?” Liam asks.

“We do, and we were going to talk to a few other shops on the street too, pass them out there,” Louis says.

“When did we decide this?” Zayn asks.

“This morning while you were asleep,” Louis says.

“So the ‘we’ here is is you two, then?” Zayn asks.

“Zayn,” Liam says, reaching out and putting his hand on top of Zayn’s, soothingly.

“It’s just some signatures and shirts, we’re not going to war,” Louis says.

“It sounds fun. We should get stickers too, people like stickers,” Niall says.

“I like the shirts, Lou,” Liam says.

“I had a few other thoughts too,” Harry says.

“Tell us,” Louis says. They all keep shooting Zayn these looks like he’s not being helpful, so he turns his hand under Liam’s so he can reach up to squeeze it and force himself to smile.

“We should get in the paper, I know a guy who works for the city paper, he said if we give him some quotes he can write an editorial about not forcing out local businesses, get some public support,” Harry says.

“Who do you know at the paper?” Louis asks, and Zayn’s smile wavers again. Louis has a vendetta against the city paper since that time they called the bar a dive and insulted a performance he’d given- there’d been a reporter on one of the few nights they’d tried to have entertainment, and the guy had ripped apart Louis’ stage presence and singing voice and his everything, basically.

“Nick?” Harry says, “Grimshaw? Why?”

“No,” Louis says.

“What do you mean?” Harry asks.

“That’s the one from the horrible article, we have it somewhere, don’t we Zayn?” Louis says.

“Horrible article?” Harry repeats.

“He hates us, said very unkind things about me,” Louis says. Harry frowns.

“He likes your bar, though, when I told him about all of this he wanted to help? He said he saw you sing and you were really good!” Harry says.

“That is the opposite of what the article said,” Louis says.

“He likes you, I’m sure of it,” Harry says, biting his lip, “do you want me to call him?”

“Not even a little,” Louis says.

“An article in the paper is a good idea though,” Liam says. Louis shoots him a look.

“Someone should write a letter then, one of us, can’t they just use that?” Louis says.

“I guess, but I really think that Nick could help,” Harry says.

“I’d really, really rather not,” Louis says.

“I’ll write it,” Zayn says, “A letter. I’ll do it. You can just make sure it gets printed, right?” They all stare at him for a long minute.

“That’s settled then, yes?” Liam says, tracing little lines on Zayn’s palm with his fingers over and over, a message that feels like maybe he’s proud and that makes Zayn’s heart swell. Louis is shooting him a grateful look from across the room. Zayn shrugs. Later, he thinks, he’ll mention that if Nick is a friend of Harry’s then Louis will have to meet him eventually. For now, giving him an out seems like the best plan.

“It is, thanks, Zayn,” Louis says.

“So, other thoughts then? Harry?” Niall asks.

“Right, I was also thinking we should meet with him, the nephew? I think he’s about our age, so maybe if we go in person and present the petition he’ll want to help? He might have sympathy if he sees us,” Harry says.

“Did anyone else hear that as, ‘send Zayn into seduce the asshole nephew’ or just me?” Louis asks.

“Just you,” Liam says, and Zayn is probably just imagining that edge in his voice, the same one from earlier, but he squeezes Liam’s hand tighter anyway.

“I could seduce him!” Niall says, “we could send me!”

“I don’t think anyone is actually talking about seduction,” Liam says.

“Not really,” Harry says, laughing.

“Oh, it just sounded sort of fun, thought I could help,” Niall says, looking mildly put out.

“Fun?” Zayn repeats.

“I just want to see if I could,” Niall says.

“I can take you to a club for that, if you want,” Louis says, smirking.

“Nah, there’d be no follow-through, so unless it’s someone who deserves it, that’s just mean,” Niall says.

“I could point you in the direction of few people who do,” Louis says, which makes Harry pout again.

“Maybe no visiting other bars until you don’t lose yours,” Liam says.

“Fair point,” Louis says. The oven dings then, and Harry jumps off Louis’ lap and starts telling them all about what he’s made. Liam doesn’t let go of Zayn’s hand all night.

***

There is a knock on his storeroom again three days later, two days before they’re supposed to meet with the nephew who might be shutting them down.

“Li?” Zayn says back to the knock.

“Hey,” Liam says, poking his head in. He’s wearing his slogan shirt, now also decorated with signatures- the five of them had all signed each other’s shirts- Louis’ idea- and a few ‘please sign our petition’ stickers from Niall, and he’s biting his lip.

“Leaving Harry and Niall alone again?” Zayn asks.

“They can handle it. It’s slow,” Liam says.

“You just taking a break?”

“I wanted to see you,” Liam says.

“Why?” Zayn asks. Liam steps toward him.

“I was thinking,” Liam says.

“Okay,” Zayn says, staring at the place he’d signed Liam’s shirt, watching Liam’s chest rise and fall under it.

“About what you said about having them same conversations over and over, and about the other day, and about Harry, and you, and being stuck and new things and trying,” Liam says.

“And?” Zayn asks.

“And I thought, like, I think we all, mostly me and you and Lou, we think we know everything about each other, right? We think we’ve said everything, we think we know all these things, but maybe we don’t. I thought I should, I thought maybe you didn’t know, so I wanted to tell you,” Liam says.

“Tell me what?” Zayn asks. Liam takes a step forward and tugs on Zayn’s slogan shirt and pulls him and then they’re kissing, actually kissing and Liam’s other hand is sliding down and lacing their fingers and Zayn is putting a hand behind Liam’s neck.

“Just. In case you didn’t know,” Liam says, pulling back, they’re breathing heavy and fast and Zayn is running his fingers on Liam’s neck and he feels like they just took several steps forward, like moving, like untying a knot.

“This is new,” Zayn says.

“I wish it wasn’t,” Liam says, and the world gets even looser, and Zayn pulls Liam back into kiss him again and doesn’t think once about sleep schedules or running or Louis.

That night he pulls out his sketch book and actually draws and it feels almost as amazing as kissing Liam had.

***

“I never thought we’d get this many signatures,” Louis says as they’re closing, he’s counting names while Zayn counts money and he’s humming to himself.

“Me either,” Zayn says.

“I think we can do this,” Louis says.

“I hope so,” Zayn says.

“And then we should seriously talk about being closed on Wednesdays and adding food, and all the things we could do to make things better,” Louis says.

“We should,” Zayn agrees, and he means it, he does.

“And about you kissing Liam,” Louis says. Zayn stares very intently at the bills he’s counting.

“Yeah,” Zayn says.

“It’s about time,” Louis says, nudging Zayn, “I saw you drawing, too.”

“I bought supplies too, paints and stuff, yesterday,” Zayn says. Louis beams at him.

“I’m really glad,” Louis says.

“It’s not like, we haven’t talked about it or anything, like, but there is kissing now,” Zayn says.

“Good,” Louis says, “you know that look you say I get?”

“Yeah,” Zayn says, a little lost.

“You have a look too, only I’ve only ever seen it twice, once when we were like sixteen, and then about Liam,” Louis says.

“Oh,” Zayn says.

“Harry was saying this thing the other day, about how fascinating the three of us are, all this history and all these things between all of us, and I- okay, I feel like I need to say something so you hear it,” Louis says.

“Okay?” Zayn says. He feels like he’s hearing a lot of that lately. (Maybe Harry is helping, maybe it is all less sticky, maybe it is better.)

“I don’t know how to say this without it sounding like I’m insulting Liam, and I’m not, you know I love Liam fucking desperately so please don’t take it that way, but it was never like that, Zayn, and I think you always think it was, but there was no face about Liam, it was just fun, and I wasn’t- sometimes you look at me and at him like you think I made some kind of giant sacrifice for you, and I don’t see it that way at all and it’s time you didn’t either, alright?” Louis says. Zayn swallows.

“I don’t,” Zayn starts, but Louis raises an eyebrow, “Okay, I did a little.”

“I know,” Louis says, “but I always, you with Liam makes me like Liam more than me with Liam would, you know?”

“I, I’m working really hard on liking Harry,” Zayn says because he’s honestly not sure what to say to that.

“You like him already,” Louis says, but it’s a little pleading and Zayn grins back.

“Maybe,” Zayn says.

“The five of us, we’re going to be a big happy family. Non-incestous and everything,” Louis says.

“Isn’t it a little late for that?” Zayn asks.

“Not currently incestous,” Louis says.

“Ah,” Zayn says, putting the cash drawer in the safe.

“We’re going to win this, you know. We’re going to win this and we’re all going to be happy, it’s going to be good, I can feel it,” Louis says.

“Everything is changing so fast,” Zayn says.

“We needed that,” Louis says.

“I know,” Zayn says. Louis pulls him in for a tight hug and Zayn squeezes back.

“Love you,” Louis says.

“I love you, too,” Zayn says.

“You’re my favorite friend,” Louis says, and Zayn feels himself beam.

“You’re my favorite,” he says back, and the echo of a thing they’ve been saying for years, since Louis had said it for the first time when they were thirteen years old and it had stuck and become an exchange, a way to end conversations, a mantra that had gotten Zayn through so many things through the years. They’re standing in the middle of the bar they have to fight for, holding each other, wrapped in each other and talking about how they’re family, but they’re somehow the least tangled in each other they’ve been in a really long time. Zayn is more okay than he’s been in a long time.

***

They walk into a shiny office, papers in hand, copies of the paper holding Zayn’s letter in it, shirts on, ready to meet this guy. Zayn still isn’t a hundred percent sure what the the plan is- show the signatures and ask nicely if they could please stay, he supposes. Still, they’ve come a lot farther than he would have thought.

“This office is bigger than my whole flat,” Liam says, gazing around.

“This probably cost five times what ours did,” Zayn says, patting the leather underneath him.

“Nice view, too,” Niall says.

“Where is this person? Why are they late? Are we sure they’re coming?” Liam asks.

“It’s very rude that he’s not here,” Louis says.

“Um,” Harry says.

“Yes?” Louis says.

“He is here?” Harry says.

“Sorry?” Liam says.

Harry stands up. “I might have lied, a little. I’m your former landlord’s great nephew, hi,” he says. Louis makes a small choking sort of sound.

“What?” Louis asks.

“Well, there is this board I’m supposed to listen to, accountants and people like that, and they were advising me to kick you out, all of you. They wanted me to put in a classy chain restaurant and maybe a high-end boutique or two, and I didn’t want to, but I needed to give them a better reason than that, because then I just look like some dumb kid, but now I’m acting on behalf of the community, and all of you, so we all win,” Harry says, smiling at all of them brightly.

“You?” Zayn asks.

“I hate all this, I’m supposed to like re-energize everything by being cutthroat or something,” Harry says, “but obviously I don’t really have that in me. So.”

“So you used us. And lied to us?” Louis says. He sounds sharp and angry and Harry’s face falls.

“No! I just, I didn’t want to shut you down! They wanted me to, I was supposed to raise your rent and get you to leave but that’s shit and I couldn’t,” Harry says.

“You felt sorry for us, then?” Louis asks.

“It’s not like that,” Harry says, “you know that.”

“No, I really don’t. I don’t know anything about you,” Louis says.

“You do,” Harry says.

“Is your name even Harry?” Louis asks. Harry flinches.

“That’s not fair,” Harry says.

“Isn’t it? You lied,” Louis says. The other three just watch them, eyes glued.

“I had to!” Harry says.

“Why?” Louis asks.

“Would have you listened to me if I told you who I was? Or would have blown me off as some rich dick trying to tell you what to do?” Harry challenges.

“But you are,” Louis says. Harry draws in a breath.

“I really did just want to help, Louis,” He says.

“Whatever,” Louis says, and Harry looks all desperate and sad and Zayn’s heart is breaking for him. Not that he totally condones the whole lying from the start thing, but like, ‘secretly rich’ isn’t exactly something terrible. Plus, now they’re not losing the bar.

“And now I can! Now I can say I’m basing my decision to let you stay on all of this, and it will all work out,” Harry says.

“You used us for some sort of fucking rich boy game, none of it even matters to you,” Louis says.

“It does! Of course it does,” Harry says, looking more miserable by the second. Zayn takes a breath.

“Lou,” Zayn says, reaching for Liam’s hand as he does.

“What?” Louis says, whirling on Zayn.

“You’re being shit. You told me to tell you,” Zayn says. Louis stares at him for a minute, then smiles, just a little.

“I”m allowed to be angry. We could all be angry,” Louis says, but he doesn’t sound nearly as angry as he had a second ago. Harry sags a little.

“I can’t be,” Niall says.

“What?” Liam asks.

“I can’t be angry. At Harry. That’d make me a hypocrite,” Niall says.

“Why?” Louis asks, rubbing his temples. Niall reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a phone much nicer than the one he normally carries and slides the screen and shows them all a picture of him. A picture of Niall with his guitar in a band in front of this huge crowd.

“When I said I didn’t need Liam’s money, I might have meant that I’m already employed and making loads of money. We’re sort of famous, actually,” Niall says.

“You’re sort of famous?” Zayn echoes.

“Well the band, not me, but yeah,” Niall says.

“Right. Anyone else? Double lives? Secrets? Been a model all this time, Zayn? Actual Olympic athlete Liam?” Louis asks.

“I’m in love with Zayn,” Liam says, blurts, “not a double life, but a secret, I guess.”

“That’s not a secret, Liam,” Louis says, but he’s grinning and he looks like he’s feeling better. Zayn squeezes Liam’s hand as tight as possible.

“It sort of was,” Liam says.

“Only to Zayn, who loves you too. You two are very sweet, really, but compared to Harry and Niall, that’s not really a revelation at all,” Louis says.

“Are you still mad?” Harry says, “Don’t be mad, Lou.”

“I’m not happy,” Louis says.

“We’re not getting kicked out,” Liam says.

“I could get you into really great parties, make it up to you, if you want,” Niall says.

“How is all of this actually happening?” Zayn asks.

“I really did just want to help,” Harry says again. Louis nods.

“Can I, will you walk with me into the hall or something? I can’t do this in here,” Louis says, tugging on Harry

“Of course,” Harry says. They head out into the hall, and everyone else just looks each for a minute

“You think they’ll be alright?” Niall asks.

“I do,” Zayn says.

“You two aren’t like, freaked out now, right?” Niall asks.

“Mostly I feel better because I was never sure how you paid bills, honestly,” Liam says. Zayn grins.

“No worries,” he says. Niall smiles back and then looks at their hands.

“I’m, um, going to go for a few minutes, to let you talk about your little revelation,” Niall says. He skips out before the can stop them- out the other door, because Harry’s office has two fucking doors. Then again, Niall is probably used to that sort of thing.

“This is all so weird,” Liam says.

“Yeah,” Zayn agrees.

“Do you think we’re being filmed or something, some kind of elaborate hoax?” Liam asks.

“I think it’s stranger if we’re not,” Zayn says.

“Niall and Harry,” Liam says. Zayn shakes his head.

“So, that thing you said,” he says. Liam flushes.

“For the longest time I didn’t think you were interested, but I always wanted you to be. Being your friend is more romantic than any relationship I’ve ever had? We’re just, it always made so much sense to me, and I didn’t know how to say that without it being, like, pressure on you, I guess, but. Yeah. I’m in love with you,” Liam says.

“I, me too,” Zayn says, “i’ve been trying to tell myself for so long now that you didn’t want me back, that it was all in my head, that there were a million reason it wouldn’t work, that Louis, that so many things, but I just, I met you and I haven’t been able to really do anything but be in love with you since.”

“Yeah?” Liam asks.

“Yeah,” Zayn says, leaning in to kiss him.

“Louis?” Liam questions when they pull back.

“We’re all so tangled, and you had that thing, the two of you, and I felt like it was my fault you didn’t anymore, and then I don’t know. I think I spent a lot of time making it more complicated than it was,” Zayn says. Liam shakes his head and kisses Zayn softly again.

“I did a lot of that too,” Liam says.

“I made something, for your walls,” Zayn says, impulsively.

“Yeah?” Liam asks.

“You don’t have to use it if you hate it, but. I did,” Zayn says.

“I’m positive I’ll love it,” Liam says, smiling.

“So, we’re doing this now, you and me?” Zayn asks.

“I really want to,” Liam says.

“Me too,” Zayn says, smiling.

There is a thud out in the hall, and they both turn around to see, through the window, that Harry and Louis are making out against the wall. Zayn grins.

“I guess they’re okay, then.” Liam says.

“Louis said we’re all one big not-currently-incestous family now,” Zayn says. Liam giggles.

“I like that,” he says.

“Me too,” Zayn says, and then he’s leaning forward and kissing Liam again and it’s like the whole fucking world is opening, and it’s amazing.

***

In the end, they do more than hang Zayn’s art on the walls. They have a full opening, with music from Niall and his band and drinks provided by Louis’ and Zayn’s bar and Harry inviting important people to look at it all. It’s actually terribly classy and people like, make him offers and other people ask Liam if they can display his things someday and Zayn and Liam keep their hands clasped the whole night, tight and steady. Louis is trying out the new bar menu on the guests too, and the food, along with Liam’s frozen scones, and the drinks, alcoholic and not, keep everyone in good spirits all night. Niall’s band is amazing, and them being there is sort of a huge deal too. It’s all a big deal, actually. Big enough that the city paper is there, and out of the corner of his eye Zayn can see Louis attempting to make nice with Harry’s friend Nick. He grins.

It’s a Wednesday and he’s at Liam’s, and very large parts of his world are still Liam’s coffee shop and the bar and Louis and Liam, but in so many other ways his life has completely shifted.

And that night, when they celebrate at Louis and Zayn’s flat and there are more drinks and it’s just the five of them and they’re sort of draped on each other and Zayn’s head is on Liam’s chest, listening to his heartbeat, and Harry is giggling into Louis’ neck and Niall is telling them stories about all the famous people he knows and doesn’t like very much, it’s somehow like his life has arrived exactly where it was meant to.


End file.
